The Last Synopsis
by Na.Shao
Summary: Loki leads a simple life navigating between his bookstore, his sister and the few friends he has in between. That is, until he is faced with the biggest challenge in his life: saving his bookstore, created by his mother, in the face of Odinson Books whose new shop opens right around the corner.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I love _You've Got Mail_ and couldn't not make a Thorki AU out of it. I've watched this film so many times and despite the fact that it's getting old (especially considering how the Internet is progressing), it's still a delight to come back to it.

**It was written for the Thorki Big Bang 2018.**

This fic is such a gigantic piece of work for me who usually only writes one-shots, and I'm forever grateful that I took up this challenge because it brought me a lot!

I hope you enjoy this—don't hesitate to post a review if you liked it!

* * *

_From: pirateangel_

_ To: agent_of_asgard _

_ Posted: Fri Oct 20, 2017 07:07 a.m._

_ Re: What about Bonnefoy? _

_ Dear Asgardian, _

_ Fenrir ate my bagel again this morning and left cheese on the cover of my favourite copy of _ The Crooked Planks_, can you believe it? _

Loki lets out a chuckle before sipping on his hot coffee, eyes carefully reading the black words on his laptop screen as he sweeps his dark locks up into a messy bun with an elastic band that had previously sat quietly around his right wrist.

_ But I don't mind, really. He's a good dog. I would feel so much lonelier without him. I fell in love with him at the shelter and couldn't even think of going home without him. Now, I can't imagine a life without him in there, his dog hair everywhere and his wet nose in my face every single morning. _

_ Anyway, I am rambling. What have you been reading lately? I know we talk a lot about Bonnefoy but I'm sure you are onto something else, too. _

He rubs a thumb across the smooth surface of his desk and looks out through his window; he catches the sight of red and orange leaves twirling in the air and smiles, thoughtful. The soft grey sky is mirrored by the grim grey of the asphalt underneath, both worlds so different and yet finding ties binding them to the other when rain starts to fall.

_ I hear nothing, not even a sound on the streets of New York, just the beat of my own heart. I have mail, from you, and I can't help loving your stupid username. Pirateangel, really? _ And Loki can't fight the smile curling on his lips. _ The silliest name for the most pleasant person I've met in a long time. _

Again, he finds himself smiling.

He has grown very fond of this _ pirateangel _ over the months, ever since he has registered online on this forum dedicated to literature and poetry.

_ From: agent_of_asgard _

_ To: pirateangel _

_ Posted: Fri Oct 20, 2017 08:20 a.m._

_ Re: What about Bonnefoy? _

_ I'm sorry Fenrir ruined your copy of Bonnefoy. I know how much you love this edition in particular. My cat sometimes nibbles on mine and it's infuriating, so I feel you. In the end, we can't help but love them no matter what stupid things they do; they are ours forever. You seem to love Fenrir so much, and so does he. It's heartwarming. _

_ As for reading, I have been onto re-reading _ The girl with the dragon tattoo. _ What about you? I seem to recall your taste for Neil Gaiman. _

Loki's eyes fall onto his pale, long fingers that are held out in front of him and typing giddily around his keyboard. His nails are carefully painted black despite Hela and Sif laughing it off, telling him on a very regular basis that _ Halloween only happens once a year, Loki, or maybe you've lost track of time. _

_ Don't you love New York in the fall? _

He adds the sentence suddenly, and his thoughts wander to the streets of New York full of colourful scarves and chilly wind and dried leaves crackling under various different heels.

_ It makes me want to buy school supplies and eat pumpkin pie at my mother's table with a glass of hot apple cider. _

Hearing the heavy pitter-patter of raindrops upon the glass of his bedroom window is enough to bring back bouts of nostalgia where his mother appears in clouds of blue smoke and gentle smiles, a slice of pie in a plate in one hand, a plaid she knitted in the other. Loki can even taste the memory of damp air and heavy clouds releasing torrents on the roof of their little house in Bath.

_ My sister hates pumpkin pie so my mother always made two pies: one for us all, one for my dear sibling. It meant more for me, anyway, so it was a win-win. _

Somewhere in Manhattan, the infamous _ pirateangel _ lets out a laugh at that.

** _x x x_ **

Sliding his smartphone across the kitchen table surface, Thor checks for any new notification.

His heart misses a beat when his phone buzzes with the chime of a ringtone under his fingertips as a new message notification pops up on his screen, the little mail icon staring right back at his eager eyes.

"Is that your sweet _ agent_of_asgard _ again?"

Thor startles at Jane's voice, turning around like a kid being caught stealing from the cookie jar and eliciting a small laugh from her.

"Jane,_ for the love of— _ !" but he doesn't finish his sentence, brushes a hand through his short blond hair instead with a sigh. "Can you _ stop _ sneaking on me like that? You're going to give me a heart attack someday."

She rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle of orange juice to pour herself a glass, refilling Thor's discarded one in the process. Pale beams of light streak through gaps in the sky and fall upon her hands in a dance of sorts.

"So," she resumes, "what did they tell you today? Did they send you another message filled with poetic wanderings about fall?"

Thor takes a quick breath and swallows hard. "How do you know about— _ him_?"

"So it's a _ him_, hmmm. Alright," and she sits at the counter, grabs a slice of white bread and starts spreading butter on it. When Thor pleads her to tell him more about the matter at hand, she munches on it, contemplative. "You told me about your sweet correspondence yesterday evening."

His mouth tightens into a tense line; he finds himself a bit too dumbstruck to formulate a proper response.

"_Fuck_."

So now here he is, sitting in his kitchen with his best friend, attempting to stop himself from blushing and spilling everything to her. It's difficult, to be honest; he has always told Jane everything from the very beginning, from shouting that Fandral stole her Pokémon cards to grumbling in her ear that Matthew from sciences class was hoping to get a date with her in twelfth grade. They had tried dating back when they were in highschool before realising they were better as friends, and from this point on, their friendship only grew stronger

"Oh, come on, Thor," Jane grumbles with breadcrumbs around her mouth, "it's not like you can hide this shit from me."

_ And fuck is she right. She always knows _ everything_. _

Thor turns to give her a stern look, but is met with a smile and a laugh; Jane ends up smirking, lifting the corner of her lip in an attempt at dragging him out of his mood.

"How did you even know it was him? It could have been anyone and anything else. It's just a fucking notification _ sound_," the blond man huffs.

Jane chuckles. "You have this dumb look on your face whenever you read one of his messages."

Finally, Thor has been rendered speechless, and he surrenders, defeated by an argument he cannot counter. Jane's face lights up like a Christmas tree, and he makes the wise decision to let it go.

** _x x x_ **

Thor's phone vibrates on his desk a little before 11 a.m.

** _Jane (10:48 a.m) _ **

_ Don't forget we have to be ready at 7 tonight. Don't work too late :* _

** _Thor (10:48 a.m)_ **

_ Tonight? _

** _Thor (10:49 a.m)_ **

_ Did I agree on something while we were drunk yesterday evening? _

** _Jane (10:49 a.m)_ **

_ Thor, the fucking scientific gala? From my research laboratory? :[ _

** _Thor (10:50 a.m)_ **

_ … shit _

He sighs as he reads Jane's messages over again, not remembering anything from the night before. He can't even pinpoint the moment he accepted to be her date for this gala he has no record of; he tends to hate these, which is just his luck as the heir of one of the biggest booksellers in the United States.

He feels genuinely sorry that he forgot, at least, and that somehow soothes his mind; nevertheless, his face slowly flushes at the idea of not being able to hold his fucking drink.

Pushing himself away from the desk in his office chair, Thor sighs heavily and types back.

** _Thor (11:02 a.m)_ **

_ Do I have to go? _

** _Jane (11:02 a.m)_ **

_ You promised to be my plus-one? _

** _Thor (11:03 a.m)_ **

_ Why me? You have Darcy! What about Darcy? _

** _Jane (11:03 a.m)_ **

_ :[ _

_ She's working in London, you remember? _

** _Thor (11:03 a.m)_ **

_ … no? :D _

** _Jane (11:04 a.m)_ **

_ OOoooh _

** _Jane (11:04 a.m)_ **

_ I see _

** _Thor (11:04 a.m)_ **

_ What? _

** _Jane (11:06 a.m)_ **

_ You don't remember anything from yesterday apart from drinking and yelling your love for your fake digital boyfriend? _

** _Jane (11:06 a.m)_ **

_ ;) ;) _

** _Thor (11:10 a.m)_ **

_ Jane _

** _Thor (11:10 a.m)_ **

_ Jane I love you but fuck off _

** _Thor (11:10 a.m)_ **

_ KINDLY _

He may adore Jane, but there are days where he actually wants to murder her.

Once the slight wave of annoyance has passed, he realizes, but without a retort at hand, that it really wouldn't be a good thing for her to go alone and that he had promised to be there with her, even though he was drunk beyond words.

_ Let me pick you at 7, _ he ends up texting, the tips of his thumbs pressing carefully on his virtual keyboard. _ I promise to get out of work early and to be clean shaven. _

Thor risks a glance across to the window, notices the rain has gone quiet; orange leaves veined with red glisten with new life on the pavement and he can't stop smiling as he imagines pumpkin pies and glasses of hot apple cider.

** _x x x_ **

_ From: pirateangel _

_ To: agent_of_asgard _

_ Posted: Sat Oct 21, 2017 02:29 a.m._

_ Re: What about Bonnefoy? _

_ Dear friend, _

_ Do you sometimes feel disconnected from yourself? I always feel like I appear to be someone else in public before I go back to my shell in the warmth of home or anywhere I consider "private". _

_ I somehow had promised my best friend to be her plus one for her scientific gala tonight. I don't really like parties or events. I was pushed under the spotlight without exactly wanting to but what can I say? My father wanted me to carry our family's legacy with our company. I wish my step-sister would have taken my place, at times, because I aspire to a quiet life and manageable stress. _

_ Anyway. I didn't even remember agreeing to go and if I could, I would have avoided it, but I drunkenly promised her, so I went. Her girlfriend is working in London if you were wondering about that, which is why I replaced her. It sounds a little like Prince William taking on the Queen's role and tasks when she is too tired to travel and needs replacement. Can you picture me being of royal blood? _

_I am rambling, forgive me. It's late and with how tired I am, I get carried away. I guess I feel lonely, alone in this big house. Well, Fenrir is here, at least. Fenrir and big old me and all my books. _  
_  
__You asked about what I am currently reading._ _I guess I've read _Pride & Prejudice _about a hundred times, however, I can't seem to stop coming back to it. Will Lizzie and Darcy end up together? I still feel dread while reading even though I know perfectly well that they will marry._

_ I like writing you these messages. Sometimes I realize that they bear a lot of nonsense and maybe that you are rolling your eyes as you read about my days. I don't mind, as long as you find something to smile about, I guess? _

_ I miss you, _Thor almost types, "I" hanging between the lines up until he goes back and deletes it. How can he miss someone whose name he doesn't even know? How can he miss someone whose face he cannot even sketch?

"I miss you anyway," his voice drawls, and he rubs a hand over his face.

He hadn't even been aware he had spoken, and it somehow came out jagged and breathy.

_ You can't miss someone you have never met, can you? _ he thinks to himself before he texts the same thing to Jane, to which she simply replies _ you're drunk, go to bed. It's too late to be asking philosophical questions. _

Maybe being alone with his thoughts this late in the night isn't such a good thing indeed, though he can't help himself. Can you miss someone you have never met? Someone you have never seen, have never heard, someone whose body you have never been close to?

The house is so quiet like this, with just Thor awake and Fenrir asleep at the end of the bed, Jane gone back at hers eventually. He's not quite sure he likes it, if he is completely honest with himself. It lacks something; warmth, perhaps? Or—

_ Well. _

Thor knows exactly what is missing in his too big of a house; he does. But acknowledging the existence of such a feeling of loss and void is a little too much to bear at the moment, and he closes his laptop without even having sent his message, focusing on the warmth thinking about his friend brings.

He smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: here's another chapter. Don't hesitate to review it if you liked it!

This story has 8 chapters, so 6 left.

Enjoy your stay!

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Loki is sickly pale, but it is nothing new.

He looks back at himself on the black screen of his phone and sighs as he waits for his drink to be made, his eyes glazing over the people in front of him; they aren't half as pasty white as he is. God, his skin is so pale that it looks like he hasn't stepped out of his flat in _ weeks_.

Unlocking his screen, Loki resumes typing his reply to his mysterious writing pal, his hair falling softly from where it was previously tucked behind his ear.

_ From: agent_of_asgard _

_ To: pirateangel _

_ Posted: Mon Oct 23, 2017 07:45 a.m. _

_ Re: What about Bonnefoy? _

_ Dear friend, _

_ I hate waiting at Starbucks but reading your messages makes it bearable. Do you go to Starbucks often? Do you drink coffee? I'm not a fan myself. I'd rather have tea. I usually order a London Fog or a Chai latte with oat milk. _

_ I'm rambling. _

He stops, takes a deep breath. Typing on the screen makes him hyper-aware of the bone beneath the tip of his thumb, rough and weirdly-angled from an old injury as a kid. Hela had decided it would be a wonderful idea to climb trees while on vacation in Bath and Loki ended up falling flat on his arm, breaking it and his thumb in the process.

_ Sorry for not replying yesterday. I wanted to, however, my sister had the marvellous idea of dragging me to the cinema so we could be up to date for the Golden Globes. I told her we had time regarding that matter but she wouldn't hear about it unless I went with her… so I did and it wasn't half bad, in the end. _

_ Still, I would rather have written to you instead. There is a calming, soothing side to it that I enjoy very much. I have even taken up _ Pride & Prejudice _ for you again! If you don't call this dedication, then I don't know what it is— _

"Loki?"

The Starbucks employee snaps Loki out of his reverie so badly he startles, phone almost crashing down on the floor. A faint blush powders over his cheeks and up his nose and he crosses the line as quickly as possible to grab his London Fog; he reaches out for his drink at the same time as a tall blond man does, so handsome Loki barely remembers he is not supposed to be _ gaping _ at strangers.

He finds himself looking into the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

"Sorry," he says after their fingers have knocked together and he has retracted his hand to himself. "I didn't pay attention."

The embarrassment settles deep in his stomach; it usually is a foreign feeling, but Loki doesn't face gorgeous men like this one every day. He wishes he could be counting the crooked tiles on the floor instead of staring because _ he can't stop staring _ and _ it is so rude _ and he can't believe himself—

"It's alright," Handsome Stranger replies with a chuckle in his voice, deep and raspy and full of warmth. "Here."

He hands Loki his London Fog carefully while, slowly, the present situation is reaching Loki's brain, and he can only blink himself back to what is happening. There is silence for a moment, nothing but the soft whisper of people ordering and getting their drinks around them; a waltz of sorts, easily choreographed and put together.

Handsome Stranger's smile is a complicated thing, made out of particles and sparks Loki has trouble wrapping his head around; so much that he keeps staring for a while, observing, taking information in for a reason he cannot fathom.

"Are you offering me your drink?"

Loki blinks at Handsome Stranger dully, without understanding.

_ Oh. Oh, fuck. How long has he been staring? _

"I'm sorry, I have been so rude," Loki says, biting the inside of his cheek. His heart leaps into his throat and he cringes a little in his head as he wonders about how much more stupid he can happen to look to this man.

Handsome Stranger quirks his head towards the paper cup in his hand upon which "Loki" is written in bold, dark marker, and Loki follows his gaze, realising he should probably take his drink and stop bothering this poor man who has been so kind and patient already.

It's almost a surprise that his own fingers and hand cooperate when he reaches out for his cup; he is careful not to spill the hot beverage—knowing his luck, it could have been an easy messy situation to fall into—as he welcomes it from the other man's grasp.

"Thank you," and before Loki can add anything else, the man grins softly and is out the door in mere seconds, a fleeting spark lost in New York's tumultuous morning.

** _x x x_ **

Sif is waiting for him with her own paper cup filled with coffee when Loki turns around the street and spots her long black hair colliding with her bright orange nails.

"Hi," Loki says gently, hot tea in hand. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

This earns him a frown, as if he had said something really rude to his best friend of twenty years.

Sif looks up at the sky, still frowning. "It's raining, Loki. I wouldn't call that a 'beautiful' day, but sure, if you say so…"

"Rain can be pretty," he answers quietly. He sips on his London Fog, rubs his upper lip once the warmth of it has disappeared in his throat. "A beautiful day doesn't have to be about the weather, Sif."

She nods sceptically, watches the sky still as Loki reaches absentmindedly for the key in his pocket to unlock the shop and crank the gate; he has the doorknob in hand when Sif stops her brain in its tracks, flipping around to face Loki once again.

"You're definitely in love!"

_ In love? Sif, for fuck's sake. _ "Yeah, with my shop," Loki answers, and he makes it sound like it is the most obvious thing in the world. Why would she say that out of the blue?

The door opens and he lets her in, flips the vintage "OPEN / CLOSE" sign around to "OPEN" and closes behind him.

Half of his brain is still focused on his recent exchanges with _ pirateangel _ and the weird, yet lovely encounter with Handsome Stranger this morning just as Sif's voice rises again in the silent shop, a warmly lit space filled with endless shelves full to the brim with books of all sorts, from children ones to rare Pléiade editions of Albert Camus.

"What's going on with you?"

Loki glances at his phone, which reads nine o'clock; there is no new notification regarding a reply from his favourite pirate and he finds himself slightly disappointed. He'll get over it; he can't expect him to reply so quickly all the time, and the same thing can be said when it comes to Loki himself.

Hanging his coat, he pulls off his scarf as well, phone and London Fog still in hand. "Nothing," he eventually answers while Sif is about to ask again with a clear look of annoyance, and his face scrunches a little, though he can't keep his smile off his face. "Nothing's going on with me. You know me, Sif: I'm the most uneventful person in the whole city."

Sif sports that look with eyes as big as glassy pearls and Loki knows right there that he is _ fucked_.

His pulse jumps in surprise because her voice breaks through the still silent store; it even stops his flurry of motion. "_Loki_."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Sif?"

_ "What is going on?" _

A beat.

Loki just brushes it away, plays with the hem of his cardigan. He fiddles with a loose thread there; Sif's eyes zero in on it. "Can you start getting the Christmas stocks in order? We need to be prepared," he says instead; tries a diversion, anything that can shake his best friend off his back.

She hands him over a file with the Christmas stocks as if she had been prepared for Loki to say that. "Already done. It's all ready to go," she says, gesturing towards the paperwork. She pauses and her eyes are worried behind her brown-rimmed glasses. "You know that I'm going to stand there until you tell me, so you'd better hurry. We don't have all day."

Loki scowls and looks at her in frustration and sheer annoyance, though it quickly dissolves because he definitely needs to tell someone that isn't his cat.

Several seconds later and Loki finds himself unable to hold back the flow of words practically jumping out of his mouth and the grin that accompanies them.

"I think I met someone?" and his voice is unsure. "It's not—Sif, _ no_," he groans, shakes his head at his best friend's excited expression. "No, I didn't get a Grindr account," he corrects with a wince. Sif's face falls for a moment, until Loki adds, "we met on a literature forum."

"Isn't that amazing? Another book-lover!" the dark-haired woman exclaims, grin broad and full. "What's his name?"

Loki feels his cheeks redden. "It's not like that."

Sif frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I don't even know him, Sif! I don't know his name or his face…I just—I don't know." Loki takes a sip of his drink, basks in the warmth that spreads slowly in his mouth and coats his tongue with melted sweetness. "We talk about books and things in our lives but…we never exchanged personal information regarding our names or our jobs. I'm not even sure I want to."

There's a sudden gust of wind outside and Sif lets her eyes go out of focus, not really looking at Loki but still trying to form a sentence. "Do you like him? Looks like you enjoy talking with this stranger a lot more than you let on."

"I told you, I don't know! I barely know him!" Jesus, it was a bad idea to tell Sif about it, no matter how much he loves his best friend. "Forget it," Loki grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Loki, it could be anyone! Imagine, it could totally be…"

Just at that, the door to the shop opens with a soft music signalling a new customer.

"... _ Clint_."

Loki's mouth quirks into a smile, but his eyes still bear shadows and frustration. "It's definitely _not_ Clint."

"Hi," Loki says to him. A smile spreads on his lips, genuine this time, and Sif does the same.

For a moment, Clint is left without comment. He stares into his boss' and colleague's eyes until his lower lip curls up, and he waves at them both only to grin harder.

"Why are you smiling like a shark, boss?"

"Sif is being silly so you're being my escape," Loki explains, adjusting his shirt around himself.

"I'm not being silly!" Sif exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. "You're happy, I'm just glad about it! And you made us cookies for today!"

Baking more than thrice a week under the pretence of _ needing sugar around in case anyone fainted from having so many kids (and people) in the shop _has always been Loki's favourite excuse to bring pastries and sweets to work.

He sighs, but his grin remains.

"Actually, I was telling Loki that you could possibly be his Internet crush," Sif smirks. Loki sputters out something as he watches how large Clint's eyes grow by the second—

"_An Internet crush_, boss?"

"An Internet crush, brother? You didn't tell me!" Hela's voice shots up right behind Clint and Sif, which kind of gives Loki the final blow. Sif's thunderous laugh echoes through the bookstore, and she smacks Loki's back with all her might.

** _x x x_ **

"I gather that you've met someone, then?" his sister asks over dinner the very same day.

Loki takes a bite out of his chicken and sighs, mouth full, but it's hard to hide his smile. He always smiles when talking about his _ dear friend_. "I haven't met _ anyone_."

A few minutes pass without any answer from Hela, and Loki casts an eye over his sister's living-room. There are files and folders strewn all over the couch along with a pile of notebooks, some open, and Loki can catch her neat handwriting, even from afar—he has always been a little jealous of her skills on that side. His own handwriting looks… well. _ Not great. _

Hela has to bite her lower lip to stop herself from grinning too widely. "Really? So why are you blushing like a maiden, then?"

"Piss off, Hela," Loki grunts, though the heat from annoyance doesn't quite reach his entire face. Residual blushing keeps gathering around his cheeks, as well as happiness. "I'm not blushing."

"He says,_ as he blushes even more._"

Loki sighs once again, scratches at his cheeks as if he could make the godforsaken pink go away and leans back in his chair. He lets out a soft chuckle.

Staring at him expectantly though not without amusement, Hela doesn't miss the subtle line of tension running through her little brother's hands, the way his feet start to curl under the table in anticipation and anxiety.

She licks her lips, patiently.

"It's alright," she murmurs, gentle.

"What?" Loki asks softly, looking up from where his gaze has settled and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

Hela sighs. "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it. I just tend to worry, you're my little brother after all."

"It's not…" Loki tries, but his voice trails off. He's not sure what to say, what to share. He breathes in hard. "I don't know. It's such a weird situation. It also makes me happy? It's just been a while since I've had anyone in my life."

A moment passes, cars and people melting in a chorus on voices and sounds outside, and suddenly Loki's throat is dry, full of unexpected emotion.

"Don't be worried—"

He catches the way Hela's spine stiffens, how her eyes grow defensive, almost hard.

"You can't ask me that, Loki. I always get worried. We only have each other left, after all."

He keeps quiet, watches her, sweeping his gaze back and forth before he glances to the side.

The moment her phone vibrates in the pocket of her jeans, Loki thanks all deities quietly because it distracts his sister enough that she drops the topic at hand. She goes on about how her girlfriend just informed her that another Odinson Books store would open soon near their own and how fucked up it is that they _ dare _ push little independent booksellers out of business. Honestly, Loki is only half listening; all he can think about is the taste of warm Chai Latte and bright blond hair twirling in the October wind.

When he brings his hand up to sweep the gasoline bangs out of his eyes, he realises his fingers are trembling.

** _x x x_ **

Thor sighs and drums his fingers against the table, scowling out at the ongoing rain pounding against the pavement. The room smells of new paint and expensive wood and his coffee is a tasteless mud-flavoured drink which doesn't help with the awful sleepless night he managed to pull through.

_ A good Monday morning, all in all. _

"What do you think, son?"

Thor glances to his right to find his father pointing at the files across the table from him.

"I don't think it's quite fair to open up a new store right next to them," he says in a monotone voice. Odin raises an eyebrow. "Dad," Thor mumbles in reply, rolling his eyes, "we have enough money as it is. I get that it is an ego trip for you but you aren't making the most rational choices. Heimdall and I are both a little concerned about the neighbourhood response."

There is a short silence as both his father and grandfather arch their eyebrows at him with hues of impatience.

"Being fair?" Bor, his grandfather, eventually asks with a dash of irritation. "That's never been in our minds. This is a business, Thor, not a non-profit organisation to promote reading."

Odin heaves an exaggerated sigh. "You have always been too soft, my son… we are facing sharks and we can't allow ourselves cheap sentimentalism with money at stake."

_ Yeah. You've always wanted Angela to take my place, I know that, _ Thor tells himself bitterly, glaring at the man in complete and total frustration. _ You're shit at hiding it, Dad. _

"What do you care?" Thor grumbles as he lets his head fall back against the upper end of his chair. "As if you didn't have enough money already? Why can't we let that little shop go on?"

"Why do you keep insisting?"

Thor offers a bland smile, shoves his hands in his pockets and feels anger clawing at his throat, annoyance bleeding through his voice. "I don't want to be another big brand that lives off small independent bookshops going under."

Odin shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and takes a good look outside when he turns around in his chair. "I told you, father, that choosing Thor was a mistake."

"That's the kind of game you want to play?" Thor asks suddenly in a fit of rage, fists clenched tightly. "That's what you want, Dad? You think I'm incapable of running a successful bookstore chain?"

Silence again. Odin is staring at him intently as if looking for something—but what sets Thor off is the fact that he sees it: that glint of happiness at having set his son on edge, and fuck, _ fuck does he hate it. _

"Alright," the young Odinson spits, "watch me take your misconceptions apart, dad. I can't wait to make you realise having me instead of Angela was the best choice you could have ever made for this company."

His eyes dart sideways for a split second before he storms out of the room, harsh fluorescent lights engulfing him as he leaves the men in his life behind.

** _x x x_ **

It is a Tuesday in early November when the message drops off in Loki's inbox in bold letters.

_ I think we should meet. _

Panic creeps up Loki's spine as he reads the words again and again until he can't make them out from one another and everything is just a muddy, blurry mess of washed-out black.

"He wants to meet?" he asks himself out loud. It sounds even weirder when he does, even more unreal. "But _ why?_"

Loki rests his head back against the upper half of his old couch, reveling in the tingling sensations spreading through his extremities as the blood flows in the most chaotic manner.

_ Why would he want to meet me? Isn't what we have now good enough already? _

When he leans in again, his hair falls around his face in disarray, only lifting a hand to wipe the curls away from his eyes as he tries reading the message one more time to make sure he didn't imagine it.

He definitely didn't.

_ He wants to meet, _he texts Sif, whose reply comes within seconds.

**Sif (9:17 p.m.)**

_ Who wants to meet? Sexy pirate? _

Loki rolls his eyes.

**Loki (9:17 p.m.)**

_ I don't even know if he's sexy. _

**Sif (9:18 p.m.)**

_ He might be the real deal! _

**Loki (9:17 p.m.)**

_ Sif, come on! _

**Sif (9:18 p.m.)**

_ So what? He wants to meet you! That's a good thing! He's definitely trying to flirt :) _

**Loki (9:19 p.m)**

_ Why did I think it was a good idea to text you, again? _

Loki gives his phone a reproachful look before he turns on his side, away from it and closer to his cat. Leia—and yes, he has to admit he is a little bit of a _ Star Wars _ fan—gives him a gentle nudge and curls up against him with an appreciative purr.

Well. He might be happy about the idea of meeting this man, as well as terribly anxious.

For now, Loki buries his face in Leia's fur and breathes in all the cat hair he can.


End file.
